


Help Wanted (But Not Really)

by reillyblack



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Human AU, Laura kind of is too, M/M, More tags to be added, Office AU, Pack Mother Stiles Stilinski, Peter is a Little Shit, Smart Derek, completely self-indulgent, corporate culture, essentially, family interventions, financial pressures, house wife stiles, idk why I've been loving it so much in fic lately, my favorite, standard warning for my shitty sense of humor, though it's more like, which normally I hate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-17 09:58:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9318200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reillyblack/pseuds/reillyblack
Summary: "Stiles, I'll clear up your confusion about the position. Derek here needs someone to live with him. He's a difficult person to live with, so I won't sugarcoat that. But his responsibilities at the company right now make it impossible for him to actually take care of himself and his home. That would be your job," Laura explained.Both Stiles and Derek objected at the same time.





	1. Chapter 1

Peter was the kind of customer Stiles could usually handle with light-hearted sarcasm. Today was not one of those days. 

"My misery is funny to you?" Stiles frowned at him as he mixed what felt like his thousandth caramel mochiatto of the day and tiredly called out the name on the back of the cup. 

"Not the misery." Peter smirked again, which was completely infuriating given that Stiles had just been complaining about money and how he doesn't have it. "It's just... nothing." 

But now Stiles was pissed. He was exhausted from working twenty hours a week and managing a full-time school schedule at the same time -- and this asshole somehow found that funny. Stiles wondered bitterly if wearing an expensive suit every day had numbed him to the very real pain of broke college students in this day and age.

"Explain it to me." Stiles actually stopped working to glare at the guy. Peter sighed, seeming somewhat put off by Stiles's anger, and waved his hand flippantly. 

"It's just... I know something that could help, that's all." 

"Help?" Stiles started wiping the counter furiously just to look like he was doing something in case his boss came back out. "You have a job that pays a thousand dollars an hour? An amazing scholarship opportunity and I'm the only applicant? You shit gold?" 

Peter's smirk widened. 

"Sort of." 

Stiles stopped again at that. This guy loved to fuck with him.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Stiles seethed, doing his best to speak quietly. Cursing at customers was frowned upon by management. 

"I've enjoyed our banter over the last year or so." Peter slipped his hand inside his wallet, pulled out his card, and slid it over the counter. "Give me a call if you're interested."

"Interested in what?" Stiles pressed, though he was more confused than angry now. He glanced at the business card, noting how it told him nothing real; just a white card with Peter's full name, a phone number, and the name "Hale" in the middle in important-looking lettering. The name of the company was the same as Peter's last name. "What, are you in the mob or something?"

Peter threw his head back and laughed at that.

"Not quite. I have to run to a meeting, but I'm serious -- call me. If you want to make good money and find the time to focus on your education, we can work something out."

Stiles stared at him as he left, pocketing the card despite the strange unease in his chest.

 

* * *

 

"This sounds like a bad idea." Scott hopped off his pull-up bar and wiped the sweat from his forehead. Stiles found it ridiculous that he had to dodge around it every time he walked in the kitchen, but Scott insisted it was the only doorway the stupid thing could hook up to. 

"I'm almost sure he's in the mob. The guy has that creepy godfather feel to him. For all I know, he wants me to, like, launder money for him or something." Stiles was so tired he could barely register which spices he was using on the stir fry, but he was also too hungry to go to bed without eating first.  

"You do know what money laundering is, right?" Scott's frown deepened as he sat down, all sweaty and gross, at their tiny dining table. Stiles wrinkled his nose at him. 

"Sure." Stiles waved without energy. He wasn't sure, but there was a good chance Scott didn't know either and he'd be better off googling it later. "Yeah, my barista skills probably wouldn't transfer." 

Scott was quiet for a while, rubbing his chin and watching Stiles cook. 

"You know, maybe it's something real and he just likes you. I guess it couldn't hurt to find out what he wants as long as you don't commit before you know the whole deal." 

"I doubt it." Stiles shook his head. "I'm not lucky enough to find a legitimate job by accident. And Peter and I don't 'like' each other, we just... have a mutual appreciation for sarcasm." 

"Still, if I didn't know Lydia, you'd be the smartest person I know. You could figure out pretty much any job."

"Weren't you just saying this is a bad idea?" Stiles served them both and sat down at the table with him. He attacked his meal immediately. It had been a long day.

"It is." Scott chewed thoughtfully. "But maybe you should just see what the hell he's talking about, on the off chance that it isn't. " 

 

* * *

 

Stiles was going to be so pissed if this bastard wasted his very precious time not at work or doing homework. He called him from a new skype account (more anonymous than his phone, since he'd scared himself with the mob talk) and picked at his comforter while he lay on his bed and listened to it ring. He almost second guessed himself and hung up before Peter answered.

"This is Peter."

"This better be good." Stiles sighed and rubbed his eyes. "If you waste my time, I'll sneeze in your coffee tomorrow." 

Peter barked a laugh before his voice went low and smooth. 

"I'm so pleased you decided to call. I do have a job for you. It pays well, but it's not pleasant." 

"How well?" Stiles pressed, digging his nail into the threads of the comforter. Well this was shaping up to be everything he'd dreamed. 

"Enough for you to quit your other job completely." 

Stiles's breath hitched, despite his healthy skepticism. He'd been looking for a way out of the coffee shop ever since that dickhead Jackson got promoted to manager. He may have complained about that to Peter one morning when Jackson was out of control. Plus, his grades were slipping and he needed the extra time to study. 

"I doubt that. What the hell is it?" 

Peter chuckled. 

"Come by my office tomorrow. I'll introduce you to your new boss. Then you can decide if you want it." 

"Seriously? You're not going to tell me anything else?" 

"First, we should see if you two are a good match." 

"So, this is an interview," Stiles paused, "for a job I know nothing about." 

"Wear something... casual. He'll like that. Does two work for you?" 

"I have class until three." 

"I can do five." 

"Alright." Stiles scowled, hating Peter for his sadistic sense of humor, and himself for being too curious to tell him to go to hell. 

 

* * *

 

Living in the Bay Area, Stiles was used to important-looking buildings. He just never thought he'd be interviewing for a job at one of those important-looking buildings. A degree in criminology promised a future in shitty cubicles at chronically underfunded departments, not... this.

He thumbed at his button-down shirt and jeans, only one step up from his usual plaid overshirt and nerdy t-shirt combination, cursing Peter for advising him to wear _casual_ to a job interview at  _this place._ Then he thought, "well, fuck it," and walked through the front doors. 

The entry room was hard-looking, all black, white, and brown rock walls and floors. It definitely felt expensive. Stiles was starting to believe that this job could pay as much as Peter promised. He tentatively approached the front desk. 

"I'm here to see Peter Hale?" 

"Yes, your name please?" 

"Stiles Stilinski." 

"I see your appointment here. He's on the sixth floor, room 603. Just take a left out of the elevator." 

And it had an elevator, with pretty, shiny doors and gold trimming. Stiles breathed out slowly as he stared at his reflection in the mirror-ceiling of the elevator, wondering how he always found himself in ridiculous situations. Well, actually, he knew: he was too damn curious for his own good. 

Peter's door was dark wood with a steel nameplate on the front. Stiles hesitated before knocking, some combination of nerves and irritation roiling in his gut. 

"Come in, Stiles." 

The office was big and nice and expensive-feeling, like the building. Stiles shut the door behind him and scowled at Peter. 

"Casual my _ass_."

Peter smiled wide.

"You are just... delightful. Don't get too comfortable, we're headed to another office to meet with my nephew." 

"Why would we meet with your nephew?" 

"He runs this company with my niece. My sister, technically, is the CEO, but she left them in charge while she's off galavanting around the country setting up her new company." 

"Oh he runs this... casual, Peter? _Casual_?" Stiles repeated, feeling a little hysterical as he gestured to himself. Peter just laughed and opened the door for him, gesturing him out. 

Stiles followed him down the hall, muttering to himself and glaring at the back of Peter's head, until they came to another front desk.

"Is Laura in there yet?" Peter asked the nervous blond guy behind the desk.

"Yes. They're waiting for you."

"Excellent."

So Stiles followed Peter into an even larger and expensive-looking office where two unfairly attractive people in business suits were arguing over something. They both went quiet when Peter stepped through the door, so Stiles didn't catch the subject of the argument. The woman leaned against a giant desk that the guy was seated behind. Her eyes lit up when she saw Stiles, skating down over his body before she turned to Peter and smiled in a way that confirmed they were related. 

"Good catch." 

Stiles stood there with all three pairs of eyes on him as Peter settled comfortably in one of the chairs in front of the desk, seemingly unbothered by the tension in the room. The guy behind the desk looked stiff, his eyes appraising Stiles slowly and, Stiles noted, angrily. 

"What is this?" the guy asked, his pale eyes jumping away from Stiles to shift between Peter and the woman. 

"This?" Stiles crossed his arms in front of him, all of his "this is a mistake" feelings congealing into certainty in that moment. 

"This is an intervention, nephew," Peter said simply, leaning back in the chair and looking far too at ease with the man's anger. "You've been a nightmare." 

"A nightmare." The woman nodded in agreement. The guy's expression darkened even more. 

"And Stiles here is going to fix that." Peter smirked at Stiles knowingly.

Stiles's middle finger itched. 

"How exactly am I going to fix that?" Stiles found himself asking before he could think better of it. The guy behind the desk sat up straighter. 

"He doesn't even know why he's here? Peter, you dragged this kid here without telling him anything?" 

"I'm not a 'kid'," Stiles objected.

"I thought this would be more fun." Peter's eyes sparkled with mirth. 

"This is exactly why mom left _us_ in charge," the guy shot back, his voice low and irritated. The woman looked torn between amusement and irritation as she turned to Stiles. 

"I'm Laura, and this is my brother Derek. Our mother is the CEO and we work for her, but we've taken over day-to-day operations while she's starting another company in LA." 

"Who are you?" the guy behind the desk practically snarled at Stiles. 

"It's not his fault, Derek," Laura chided him quietly. 

"Peter already said my name. And she's right -- this is all your asshole uncle's fault, so don't take it out on me."

"Oh, he's good," Laura commented quietly, smiling.

"Isn't he?" Peter responded. Laura straightened and cleared her throat before speaking to him. 

"Stiles, I'll clear up your confusion. Derek here needs someone to live with him. He's a difficult person to live with so I won't sugarcoat that. His responsibilities at the company right now make it impossible for him to actually take care of himself and his home. That would be your job." 

Both Stiles and Derek objected at the same time. 

"I said I'm _fine_ , Laura. This is completely unnecessary --" 

"Ok, that sounds a lot like a maid, and I'm just not sure --" 

"Stiles here is a student. I've offered to pay his tuition and living expenses if he can make you manageable again." Peter's voice rose above both of them, his eyes trained on Derek. Derek's mouth closed immediately. He still looked angry, but it was edged with something like guilt now.

Stiles could only gape at them. Tuition and expenses? Just for _living_ with someone?

"Neither of us can back off from this job. As you can see, the business is family-run, and that's very important to my mother. But while I have my husband to help me out when things are crazy here, Derek's been chronically single for about ten years now," Laura explained. Derek bristled.  

"Laura, what _the hell_ does that --" Derek started again, but Laura talked over him. 

" _And_ he refuses to do a traditional roommate. He can't get along with them. So we're ready to try anything." 

"That 'anything' is... me." Stiles swallowed, his eyes drifting toward Derek, who was now glaring at the wall. Stiles would probably feel similarly if his family sprung something on him like this. "I would be, like, a housewife. Cooking and cleaning." 

"Waking him up, making sure he feeds himself three times a day, yes." Stiles glanced at Derek again and noticed that his cheeks were distinctly pink-tinged. "We've been working eighty to ninety hour weeks and he's lost fifteen pounds in the last three months. We can afford to send you to school, but we can't afford Derek's shitty attitude when we meet with our shareholders." Laura nodded. Stiles shifted uncomfortably as that reality settled over him. He had experienced eighty hour weeks around finals, with studying and working combined, and he knew how much it sucked. 

"I have a roommate already." Stiles uncrossed his arms, reluctant sympathy replacing most of his irritation. "I couldn't just leave without notice." 

"We would cover your rent while they look for a replacement," Peter offered immediately. Stiles staggered at how easily they offered money to him. Thousands of dollars -- hundreds of hours working at the coffee shop -- just handed over in a second, without a serious thought. He couldn't even fathom their salaries. 

"Derek doesn't look too thrilled about this," Stiles pointed out the obvious. It sounded like Peter's description of the job had been accurate -- unpleasant, yet well-paying -- but if Derek truly didn't want him in his house, Stiles didn't see how any amount of effort on his part could make this work. 

"He's a struggling student, Derek," Peter repeated, quietly this time. Derek rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. He didn't say anything. 

"Look, I'm doing ok. I'm not desperate for this job," Stiles felt the need to point out, defensive again. He had to admit that this was seriously tempting, despite the guy's nasty mood. "And I'm not going to move in with someone who hates just the idea."

Derek finally looked at him, his pale eyes stormy. 

"Fine." Derek sighed, rubbing his face with a hand. "But you explain it to him."

And then the guy just got up and _left_. 

"Wait... what?" Stiles watched the door shut behind Derek -- not quite a slam, but not a gentle shut either. Laura looked unfazed as she spoke again, all business.

"So, we'll have to work out an employment contract for this specific situation, but it should take no more than a day. After we've agreed on the details, you can move in that day. Derek likes things clean. The mess in the house is driving him crazy. That's priority one when you move in, and maintenance afterwards is a must. You should also make sure there's something for him to eat whenever he gets home, in addition to sending him to the office with lunch and breakfast, unless we have a lunch meeting. He's absolutely impossible when he's hungry. Don't, under any circumstances, wake him up on Sundays, but every other day he needs to be here by 6:30. He's pretty good about getting here on time -- he's kind of a freak about being on time in all situations, actually, so keep that in mind -- but I want you to make sure he's in bed by no later than ten so he gets enough sleep to function. Sometimes he gets distracted with work at home and goes to bed too late, and then he misses details when he gets here." 

"This sounds more like babysitting a child." Stiles frowned at Peter. Peter shrugged.

"Yes." Laura snorted. "Yes, it does. Are you still interested?"

"I mean, I guess." Stiles said slowly. Honestly, he was so surprised by the strange offer that he still wasn't sure what to think. "He sounds kind of..." 

"Oh, he's my brother and I love him, but he's a complete terror right now. Dealing with that is definitely part of your pay. Normally, he's just grumpy and scary-looking, but since our hours skyrocketed he's been truly bad-tempered," Laura said, point blank. 

"Well, at least you're upfront about it," Stiles mumbled, taken aback by their blunt way of talking about the guy. 

"I need you to understand that before you take this job. I fully expect his attitude to improve if he's taken care of, but the first few weeks could be quite rough." 

"He can handle it." Peter looked smug, confident. Now Stiles understood why. Apparently his assertive snarking with Peter on a daily basis was considered a major plus for this particular situation. "Be yourself and shut him down when he needs to be shut down and you'll do fine." 

"My brother is all bark and no bite." Laura smirked too. "Don't be intimidated." 

Stiles arched an eyebrow. That was a challenge if he ever heard it. 

"Where do I sign?"  

 


	2. Chapter 2

"I thought we agreed you wouldn't commit to anything!" Scott gestured wildly at him while Stiles packed up his room. Scott was not happy when Stiles told him he was moving out, though the assurance of paying rent until he found someone else somewhat placated him. 

"They offered me basically a full scholarship, dude. Would you have said no?" 

"Ok. How bad is this guy that they're willing to pay someone _that much_ to live with him?" Scott pointed out, waving his hands again. "And you didn't even ask about a time limit! What if it's like three months and then they kick you out?" 

"Then I'll have three months of school and expenses paid. And no, it's not going to be fun, so I hope you'll still have my back when I need to chill over here and take a break from this guy." Stiles sighed and stopped folding his pants to cast an imploring look at his friend. Scott bit his lip and sank slowly down onto Stiles's bed. 

"Of course you're always welcome. I'm just worried about how fast you're rushing into this." 

"I'm seizing an opportunity, Scottie." Stiles started folding again, estimating the number of boxes he would need for all his stuff in his head. "I'm going to talk it over with their lawyer tomorrow, but they seem desperate enough that I could ask for pretty much anything and they'd do it." 

"Good." Scott huffed. "Don't let them push you around. And make sure that if they want to fire you, they give you at least two weeks to find somewhere else to live and another job." 

"That's a good idea. I'll bring that up tomorrow. That's the kind of suggestions I need, buddy." 

"If you're really set on doing this..." Scott shrugged, looking deflated. "I guess it's useless for me to try to stop you. I might as well help." 

"Unless they have some really crazy things written into the contract tomorrow -- and I'll read it all, I swear --this is too good of an offer to pass up." 

"Sure." Scott sighed. "I'll miss you, though. You're like my brother! Another roommate just won't be the same." 

"I know." Stiles sighed and reached over to rub his friend's shoulder. 

 

* * *

 

There were no crazy things written into the contract. Stiles read it over multiple times, with the company lawyer explaining parts of it that were too legal for him to understand. His later "orientation" with Laura included a few strange things, though, like the list of Derek's favorite and least favorite foods (who didn't like _cake???_ ), and the solemn promise that he would never wear Axe in the house. He also had to give both her and Derek three days notice before spending the night outside of the house, either for travel or for fun. It was a restricting rule, but made sense to him since he was responsible for so many things that had to be done every day. It was also similar enough to how he would have requested time off from his coffee shop job that Stiles wasn't too bothered by it. After she finished his background check and settling the financial aspects of the job, such as Stiles's tuition and living stipend, Laura synched his phone to Derek's online calendar, talked him through the basic chores she expected him to do in the house, and handed him a key.  

Stiles definitely felt nervous when he arrived at the house, moving company in tow, and realized he still hadn't had a face-to-face conversation with Derek other than their initial meeting, which had not gone well.

He quickly forgot his nerves as he checked out his new living arrangements. The house was relatively small and modern-looking, sandwiched between larger houses in the Berkeley Hills. The front area was small too, with a few flowering plants scattered here and there along the overgrown lawn. Stiles used the key from Laura to open the front door and was pleasantly surprised by how _normal_ it looked inside. He was worried (and a little excited) that he might be moving into a multi-million dollar home where his usual level of klutziness could result in some serious replacement costs. While the house was definitely nice, it didn't read to Stiles as snobby or pretentious. Nothing looked ridiculously overpriced -- at least to his untrained eye. It kind of reminded him of his own home back in Beacon Hills, actually. 

Stiles found his room easily enough, down a short hall from the living room. While the movers piled boxes into it, Stiles looked around the rest of the house. The living room was simple: a large couch, a TV, book shelves with framed pictures and books, and a yoga mat with weights in the space between the TV and couch. Derek's room was directly across from his own, which Stiles could tell had been used as a guest room before he came. He didn't look in there. 

Upstairs, Siles found Derek's office, which he decided was the messiest room in the house, with its heaping piles of paperwork and stacks of files sliding off of every flat surface. There was also a laundry room and a strangely beautiful bathroom with a wide shower and huge bath that Stiles couldn't wait to use. 

After admiring the cool sink design in the bathroom, he headed back downstairs to check out the kitchen. Stiles first noted that an impressive pile of dishes in the sink smelled rank, and that the whole kitchen was in need of a good scrub down. Once he'd looked past the surface-level mess, he marveled over the quality of the pans and pots. He also found a well-stocked pantry off to the side of the kitchen. The fridge was disturbingly empty, yet the freezer was packed with microwaveable food.

Stiles's stomach revolted at just the thought of someone surviving off of hot pockets and chimichangas for longer than a week. After digging around some more, though, he found a three-pound bag of frozen chicken breasts in the back. He pulled a few out to thaw for dinner, and then he got to work on the dishes, took all the trash in the house out, thoroughly wiped down the kitchen, and cleaned the bathtub. 

With the movers gone, Stiles became painfully aware of how alone he was in the house as the hours ticked by and the sun started to set outside. He cooked chicken breast and stuffing with a side of green beans for dinner and briefly fretted over whether he could send Derek to work with the same food from dinner for lunch. He decided the guy could deal with leftovers and packed them in two to-go containers. Since he was also responsible for making sure the guy woke up on time, he figured he could get up early to make breakfast and attempt to eat with his new roommate rather than making that in advance too.

Laura had given him a credit card to charge house expenses to, so Stiles made a list of all the necessary things lacking in the house and oriented himself to the ingredients in the pantry, the spices in the kitchen, and the cleaning supplies on hand. Stiles was appalled to find, upon inspection, that the guy was completely out of toilet paper. He thought back to the last time he'd been too busy to replace the toilet paper in his apartment and felt a pang of sympathy for Derek and his crazy schedule.  

By the time he heard the key in the door, he'd catalogued pretty much the entire house and only just started to unpack his own toiletries and immediate clothes. He scuttled out of his room and down the hall to the sight of Derek ducking through the front door, his head down, towing off his shoes. 

"Hey." Stiles waved to get his attention. Derek looked up, scowled, and then refocused on his shoes, saying nothing. "Welcome home,"  _asshole,_ Stiles thought to himself _._ He reminded himself that this guy's family was paying him to make his life better, not worse, and resolved to be as nice as he could manage.

Derek carefully placed his shoes on the expansive shoe rack by the door before ignoring Stiles completely and walking past him to the kitchen. Stiles rolled his eyes and followed in his tracks. 

"There's chicken breast, stuffing, and green beans for dinner." Stiles leaned against the counter as Derek went straight for the freezer. His hand hesitated on the freezer door before lowering slowly to the fridge handle. He opened the door cautiously, like he was afraid of what he'd find. 

"There's two containers, one for dinner tonight and one for lunch tomorrow. It doesn't matter which one you grab, they have the same stuff." 

Derek glanced at him before pulling one of the to-go containers from the nearly empty fridge and unboxing the top. He hesitated again when he looked at the inside before pulling a plate and fork down from a cabinet and emptying the food carefully onto the plate. Stiles watched him, a little disturbed by the guy's silence but trying not to take it personal. 

"Laura told me you don't do dessert, so I didn't make any. She also gave me a list of foods you like and don't like. It's on the fridge door if you want to make any corrections or additions." 

Derek silently put the food in the microwave. Then he leaned awkwardly against the counter and refused to look at Stiles while he waited. Stiles kept his eyes on him and kept talking. 

"The grocery list is also on the front of the fridge door. Add anything you want and I'll stop by tomorrow after school. I'm trying to get stuff we both like so cooking won't be so much work. Thank god you aren't a vegetarian, man, I might have died. There's a lot of vegetarians in Berkeley, have you noticed? Apparently it's, like, better for the Earth or something. I mean, also animals, but the environmental thing seems to be the trendy reason nowadays. Laura did say you love fresh veggies, though, so I'll get a lot of those tomorrow."

Derek's eyes drifted, almost involuntarily, over to Stiles before darting away and locking on the notes on the fridge. His whole body was stiff, but Stiles noticed that his shoulders seemed to sag as he leaned against the counter. It was 9:30 already, so the guy only had half an hour to himself before Stiles was supposed to... put him to bed. Stiles still didn't know exactly what that would entail -- Laura had been almost purposefully vague about that. He suspected she didn't know quite what she was asking for, either. 

"How much time do you need to get ready in the morning? I was thinking I'd wake you up at 5:45 so you could shower and get dressed. I could cook breakfast while you do that and then we could eat together around 6:10. Laura said we live really close to the office and that you could get there in ten minutes, so that would give us ten minutes to eat."

The microwave beeped and Derek pulled the plate out. Stiles had never seen someone eat off a plate (that wasn't made of paper) while standing before, but Derek didn't show any interest in moving. Now that he thought about it, Stiles hadn't seen a table in the house, other than the desk upstairs. He made a note to find one that would fit the decor.  

Stiles watched Derek's expression carefully for any signs of distaste as he he scooped up a big bite of chicken/green beans/stuffing, but Derek was scowling before he started eating and he continued scowling while he ate too, with no discernible differences. 

"I don't know how I should wake you up, is the thing. Do you want me to knock? Should I come in...?" Stiles trailed off. "Throw cold water on you?" he ventured, his lips ticking up at the thought of Derek wet and angry.

Derek's fork paused and he turned to glare at Stiles. Stiles grinned back. The guy scoffed indignantly before focusing back on his food. 

"Laura hooked me up with your schedule, which looks like _hell_ by the way so I don't even judge you right now for the whole silent seething thing. I'll try to time my cooking so dinner's still warm when you get home. Nothing like a hot meal, right? See, Laura made me promise to cook you balanced meals, with actual nutrition, and cut you off from all the microwave crap for the foreseeable future. Soooo... most of the stuff in the freezer is going in the trash tomorrow after I get groceries." 

Stiles waited another beat for a reaction, any reaction, before giving up. 

"Ok, I can take a hint, dude. I'll be in my room." 

As he was leaving, he realized there was no way to make one grown man holding another grown man accountable to a _bedtime_ not ridiculous. He resolved to lean into the ridiculous angle. Doing his best soccer mom impersonation, he turned to point two gun fingers at Derek and wink. 

"Lights out by ten, champ." 

Derek's permanent glare actually dissolved into slack-jawed disbelief. Stiles beamed at him and waved goodnight before escaping down the hallway.

He felt oddly pleased with himself when he closed the door to his new bedroom. Somehow, that didn't seem like the worst start to their new situation. And when he peeked his head out of his door a while later, the lights in Derek's room were, indeed, out by ten. 

 

* * *

 

Stiles decided he didn't like 5:45 in the morning. In fact, he _hated_ it. But now it was his job to be awake so he smacked his alarm clock and stumbled out of his room.

He knocked on Derek's door, yawning, and softly called, "You awake, man?" 

A few moments later the door swung heavily open to reveal Derek in boxers and a well-fitting tank top. Stiles was suddenly reminded of how very not straight he was. How did the guy have so many _muscles_? He spent every waking moment in an office. Plus, somehow Derek's squinty-eyed, super bed-head, I-just-woke-up-and-I-could-kill-you-with-my-pinky look made the whole thing kind of adorable.

They blinked at each other for a few unspeaking moments.

"Uh, shower?" Stiles finally suggested, rubbing at the sleep in his eyes. 

Derek squinted at him for another second before wandering past him toward the stairs. Stiles passed by him, on his way into his room, and Derek stopped as he did. 

"What are you doing?" he asked slowly. His voice was a little softer than Stiles remembered from their meeting. Stiles was so pleased to hear it that he successfully suppressed the urge to sarcastically comment on his sudden ability to speak, worried he might spook him off of ever speaking again. 

"I'm getting your laundry." 

Derek's eyes tracked between Stiles and the open door to his room, his brow furrowing. 

"I'll do it." 

"Oh yeah?" Stiles chuckled, leaning against the doorframe. "When?" 

Derek stared at him. 

"That's what I thought. Relax, dude. I'm not going to judge." 

"The suits need to be dry cleaned." 

Stiles rolled his eyes. 

"I'm a college student, not an idiot. Shoo! Seriously, I won't wreck your clothes. Go shower." 

Derek hesitated, looking like he wanted to say something else, before he seemed to decide he was too tired to argue more and trudged up the stairs. Stiles watched him go, amused by how little resistance he'd encountered from him so far. Apparently, Derek really was all bark and no bite. 

Derek's room wasn't as messy as Stiles expected, given how hesitant he'd been to let Stiles inside. There was an expansive bed with unmade covers, deep blue walls, and a side table and dresser made of the same pretty, dark wood. Stiles also noticed a guitar hanging off one wall and a stack of music on the floor. Only a few clothes were thrown on the ground, with most dirty laundry in a hamper or hanging off a separate rack in the closet. 

Once he'd thrown one load in the washer, Stiles continued yawning as he made pancakes with a mix from the pantry and some frozen fruit he found wedged along the side of the freezer door last night. He resolved to fall right back to sleep as soon as Derek left the house.

Derek came into the kitchen five minutes early, giving them fifteen minutes to eat. Stiles set their plates on the counter and Derek ate standing up again, this time facing the counter. Stiles noted that the level of irritation in his glare was somewhat less today. 

"Dude, I'm getting you a table. And some chairs. This is ridiculous," Stiles complained. Derek glanced at him. "That's cool right? I guess I should make sure it's ok to spend your money on stuff." 

Derek shrugged one shoulder. Stiles considered that progress, given his earlier resolution to completely ignore him. 

"We could go look at tables together this Sunday, if you want?" Stiles suggested, testing the waters. Derek frowned at his pancakes. "Alright, I'll do it." Stiles laughed. "You can sleep Sunday away." 

Derek finished his breakfast in record time. Stiles didn't know someone could eat that fast. Then he (almost politely, Stiles noted) rinsed his dish in the sink and left Stiles in the kitchen. A few seconds later, he emerged from the hallway, the sound of keys in his pocket, and left.

Stiles cursed to himself, grabbing the to-go container from the fridge and running out the door without shoes on.

"Wait!" he called, realizing as he did that it was pitch dark outside and not even the birds were awake yet. He quieted his voice to avoid annoying the neighbors. "Derek, your lunch!" 

Derek stopped at the end of the walkway, looking down at Stiles's shoeless feet. Then he quietly retraced his steps and accepted the container from Stiles. Stiles could have sworn he saw Derek's lips tick up at the edges before he headed back to his car. 

Stiles went back inside, cleaned up the kitchen, and collapsed onto his bed for several hours. 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Baby chapter today.

Stiles was pleased to find that Derek had made a few corrections to the list Laura gave him (apparently, he liked cauliflower and sometimes ate brownies), and that he'd added some groceries to the grocery list. He breathed a sigh of relief -- so, even if he wouldn't speak to him, he would listen to him. Stiles could work with that. 

The next week involved a lot of cleaning, since Derek's house hadn't been thoroughly cleaned in what seemed like months, but Stiles still found he had more time to himself and for his schoolwork than he had before moving in. He even finished preparing for a presentation two days early, which he couldn't remember ever happening. 

The house was too quiet. He got to know Spotify a lot better, but going from the noisy coffee shop and living with talkative Scott to utter silence for the majority of the day was jarring. Derek didn't help even when he was there, since he still didn't really talk to him or look at him or acknowledge his presence beyond what was absolutely necessary. Though, by the end of the week Stiles had successfully graduated him from varying shades of glares to monosyllabic words and grunts.

On Friday night, when Stiles was enjoying his greatly enhanced free time, he got a call from Laura. 

"Hey boss," Stiles answered with a grin, pausing The Office on Derek's big TV and wrapping himself a little tighter in the fuzzy couch blanket. Both Derek and Laura were technically his boss, but Laura spoke to him in complete sentences so he ranked her higher. "What's up?"

"Stiles, I just finished eating dinner with my brother. I have to say, I'm impressed."

"Oh yeah?" Stiles tucked his toes under the blanket, feeling cozy and relaxed.

"I asked him how it was going at home, and he said, and I _quote_ , 'fine'."

"Oh." Stiles frowned down at the blanket, picturing Derek's scowl in his head. That didn't seem like news worth reporting.

"Fine! No complaining about you, not even when I pressed him about specific problems. He didn't say one single negative thing. Do you understand?"

"Uh, I guess? It's going fine, I would agree. No big complaints." 

"No, it's going _amazing,_ " Laura corrected him vehemently. "My brother has found something to pick at in every single roommate he's ever had. You are a miracle worker and, I can't believe I'm saying this, Peter was absolutely right about you."

"Thanks?" Stiles's brow furrowed. "He's not really that hard to live with, to be honest." 

"...What?" 

"Yeah, he's gone all day, and when he gets here he eats and sleeps and then leaves again. To be totally frank, I'm surprised you're paying me this much to do this... which isn't in any way a complaint, by the way. Now if you'd asked me to live with Peter, I would demand a high price." 

"Are you fucking with me right now?" Laura sounded suspicious.

Stiles squinted at the TV. Jim and Pam had convinced Dwight to dye his hair blond and he was staring at the camera with intensity.

"No?" 

"You're saying that living with _my brother_  is _easy_?" 

"I'm barely living with him." Stiles found himself shrugging even though Laura couldn't see it. "He's never here." 

"But when he is there, he's... civil? You guys don't fight?" 

"Well, he ignores me and I talk at him, so we're not what I would call _friends_. But he doesn't complain about anything and he lets me do what I need to do. Plus, he's eaten everything I've made. I guess that's all I can really ask for. Hopefully he'll eventually, you know, talk to me, but right now it doesn't bother me that much." 

There was silence on the other end for long enough that Stiles asked, "Are you still there?"  

"I guess I'm speechless. Even when he's not this stressed out he's difficult. He fights with our assistant basically daily. Come to think of it, this week he only cursed at Isaac once..."

Stiles grinned at her dumbfounded tone. Then he realized he was talking to someone who would actually reply to him. 

"Hey, Laura? I was wondering about inviting my friends over here. Is that cool? I tried to ask Derek this morning but he ran out the door."

"That should be fine. Just, please don't wake him up after ten. He's a bear." 

"Got it." Stiles chuckled at the accurate description. "Oh, and I'm going to be gone for most of Sunday. I figure Derek will want the house to himself on his one day off, and I need to hang out with talking humans because this house is really quiet. I'll be sure there's something for him to eat while I'm gone."

"That sounds fine, I'll pass it along. Keep up the good work, Stiles. Let me know if there are any problems." 

"Will do." Stiles hung up and restarted his Office episode, grinning to himself. 

 

* * *

 

Saturday Stiles found himself marathoning more of The Office. He noticed on Derek's schedule that he got home early so he made something more elaborate than sandwiches to celebrate.

"This is breakfast," Derek immediately pointed out when he came into the kitchen and noticed what Stiles had for them. 

"It's brunch!" Stiles corrected. 

"It's 2 in the afternoon," Derek corrected him too, shrugging out of his jacket. 

"OK, I went back to bed after you left this morning and slept for long enough that this still feels like breakfast. Sue me."

Derek said nothing. Stiles found himself smiling as he watched him dig into the eggs benedict without further complaint. 

"So, I heard something very interesting from Laura last night..." Stiles started, watching Derek's face carefully. Derek stopped eating and stared at him, his expression twitching between worry and confusion. It reminded Stiles of a deer in headlights.

"Apparently, I'm... _'fine'_." Stiles beamed at him, over exaggerating the word like it was the highest compliment he'd ever received.

Derek seemed to freeze up. Then he picked up his plate and left the room. 

"You can walk away, but I know your true feelings now! I'm _fine_!" Stiles yelled gleefully at Derek's retreating back. 

Derek hid away in his office for the rest of the day, only coming down when Stiles called out that he'd made dinner. He tried to escape back to his office with dinner, too, but Stiles withheld his food until he got an eye-roll confirming that he would stay downstairs and eat with him.

"I was thinking of getting a really fancy lawn table, something you might see in the Queen of England's garden. Like white wicker," Stiles watched Derek for a moment, "with flower patterns."

"That's not funny," Derek finally grunted at him.

"It's a little funny," Stiles argued. "Ok, so what do you want?" 

"Nothing too big," Derek said after a moment. "And not too flashy." 

"Got it." Stiles nodded. "Does the flashy rule apply to chairs too? Because an Iron Throne replica could really spruce this place up. Throne for me, and... you can sit on the footstool?" 

Derek looked at the ceiling in a long-suffering way. 

"Remember, you told Laura I was 'fine'," Stiles reminded him because seemed to be forgetting. 

"I can tell her something different this week if you buy anything crazy," Derek shot back.

Stiles left the house before Derek woke up on Sunday. He spent some time at the furniture store and eventually decided on a metal table with dark wood trimming because it reminded him of the furniture in Derek's room. Laura had given him Derek's number, so he texted him to let him know it would be delivered soon. He included a picture of a child-sized table shaped like a ladybug as a misleading reference. Then he headed over to Scott's house for some much needed R&R with him, Allison, Lydia, and Danny.

It was Danny's birthday, so they drank beer and ate cake and played Cards Against Humanity, which left everyone happy and a little disgusted with themselves. Danny's new boyfriend, Ethan, was over too, and from watching them Stiles found himself thinking about the last time he dated someone. Or rather, that he hadn't had the time outside of school and work to actually consider dating since freshman year. The last person he'd been in love with was Lydia, which faded into friendship years ago. He hadn't asked anyone out in... he couldn't even remember. 

"How did you guys meet?" Stiles asked as Danny and Ethan traded shots after a particularly horrendous round of Cards Against Humanity. Scott was on the floor rubbing his eyes, five empty bottles of beer next to him. Lydia was absorbed in her phone. "Computer engineering and physics don't exactly share a building. Math class?"

  
"Actually, we're both part of LavenderCal. It's an LGBT network through the school." Danny bumped shoulders with Ethan, who smiled at him like he was the most amazing person in the world. 

"And you just... sensed each other's nerdiness from afar?" Stiles probed. 

"Speed dating event." Ethan chuckled. "Are you looking to meet a guy? We could come with you sometime if you want. I think they happen every other month or something." 

Stiles swallowed. Danny seemed to notice his unease, leaning forward with concern. 

"That would be cool, actually. I'm... just so rusty, is the thing."

"It's just for fun." Danny clapped his shoulder reassuringly. "We'll be there for you, if you want to try. There's also a couple of clubs we could go to." 

Stiles nodded and thankfully Ethan changed the subject so he didn't have to think about how painfully single he'd been for so long. Soon after, everyone left and it was just him and Scott playing video games and waiting for their beer buzz to fade away. 

Derek finally texted back that they'd delivered the table to their house. He said nothing about Stiles's misleading ladybug table picture.

 _What do you think?_ Stiles texted back while waiting for his character to reincarnate. He was actually a little nervous about asking. 

 **Bossman:** _It's fine._

 _Oh wow, you like it that much? It's just a table, Derek. It's not me._ Stiles bit his lip as he pressed send, wondering if he was overdoing the teasing. He was a tiny bit proud of Laura's praise, and he didn't want to get a different report at the end of the next week (as Derek had threatened). Still, Peter didn't hire him because he was polite. 

Stiles didn't expect a response to his bullshit, so he went back to Call of Duty with Scott and didn't even think about it again until he was walking to the bus stop and noticed the light on on his phone. He opened the unread message while he was waiting for the bus and actually found himself smiling. 

 **Bossman:** _When are you coming home?_

_Did you miss me?_

Stiles swiped his card and climbed on the bus. By the time he sat down, Derek had replied. 

 **Bossman:** _Just wondering if you need a ride._

Stiles gaped at the phone for a few seconds before he realized he was in public and shut his mouth. _Derek Hale_ offering him a ride? Oh, he was so sharing this with Laura at their next gossip session. 

_That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me. I'm honestly choked up._

**Bossman:** _Forget I asked._

Stiles laughed to himself. That was more what he expected. But... it was raining and dark out, and Derek's house was farther away from campus than his apartment used to be. Derek had thought about that. Touched, he sent back, _I'll be home soon._

It was the first time he called it "home". It felt a little weird. But Derek did it first, so whatever. It probably meant he wasn't thinking of kicking him out anytime soon.  


	4. Chapter 4

When Stiles woke up at 5:45 the next morning, Derek's bedroom door was already open. Stiles peaked inside to find the bed covers ruffled, the room empty. Derek hadn't yet given Stiles explicit permission to clean his room, and he seemed hesitant when Stiles got his laundry so Stiles had mostly stayed clear of it. With the laundry off the ground it looked mostly clean anyway, if a little dusty here and there. 

Stiles stumbled to the kitchen and thumbed through one of the new cookbooks he'd bought himself. He'd cooked for himself and his dad when he lived in Beacon Hills, and then he and Scott had traded off on cooking throughout college, but now that it was a main responsibility it was a good time to gain new skills. He wasn't by any means a professional cook, but he figured he could try some new things to keep himself and Derek from getting bored with the menus. 

Of course, trying new things also meant fucking up. 

"What... happened?" Derek asked, stopping as he rounded the corner, hair damp from a recent shower, to find Stiles half up on the counter and wafting smoke through a window. 

"How about some freezer waffles, big guy?" Stiles eyed the smoke alarm and tried to pry the window open more. 

Derek opened another window while Stiles heated them both up waffles and syrup. He noticed by the microwave clock that Derek was five minutes earlier than usual. He must have been well rested after his day off.

"I like it," Stiles praised his own decision as he sat down at their new table and rubbed a hand fondly along the smooth surface. "Look, we can use our knives properly now! I could make you knife food, like steak. This is the best idea. I am the king of good ideas." 

"Just don't burn the house down." 

"I was trying a flambe, if you must know." 

"Jesus." 

Derek settled down across from him, focusing on his food. Stiles was still admiring the table when Derek spoke. 

"How was yesterday?" 

Stiles looked up, wondering if he had imagined Derek's voice. Derek didn't voluntarily ask him questions -- Stiles pried answers out of him with gentle (and not so gentle) teasing. Stiles stared at him for a long moment before Derek glanced up from his food, startling him into speaking. 

"Uh, it was good. It was my friend Danny's birthday party. I got kind of -- ok, maybe a lot-- drunk so I stayed out later than originally planned to sober up." 

Derek didn't seem to react to that, but Stiles wasn't about to lose steam on a morning when Derek was voluntarily speaking to him. 

"How was your day?"

"It was..." Derek looked up at him and then back at his food. Then he was silent for a few seconds, leaving Stiles hanging.

"You were going to say _fine_ , weren't you?" Stiles realized, grinning. 

Derek's lips twitched up. Stiles definitely, definitely didn't imagine it. His jaw almost dropped. 

"What do you even do when you're not working?" 

"I work out." Derek chewed thoughtfully. "Read. Sleep." 

"The working out thing so does not surprise me." As soon as he said it he realized it probably wasn't the most appropriate thing to say to your boss. Moving on quickly, he asked, "Uh, what do you read?" 

"I was reading a World War II historical fiction yesterday." 

Stiles gaped at him, almost as surprised by that as he was by Derek engaging him in an actual conversation. 

"For _fun_?" 

Derek scoffed, but his lips turned up at the edges again, subtle yet undeniable. 

"You don't need to leave on Sunday," Derek said slowly, looking at his food rather than at Stiles. "Laura told me you left to give me space." 

"Well, that was one reason, but I also wanted to see my friends," Stiles replied. Then he actually processed Derek's words. Why would Derek say something like that? It didn't make sense. Derek was always acting like he wanted to be left alone. Unless he was somehow worried about pushing Stiles out of the house?

"It's not a big deal if you want your own space, dude. I get it. I'd want some alone time if I was in your position, with your schedule." 

"If you want to stay, it's fine." Derek shrugged, one shoulder jerking up in a stiff, uncomfortable way. 

"Ok." Stiles nodded. "So you... don't want your own space on Sundays," Stiles clarified, partially because he still couldn't believe it.

"You can stay if you want," Derek repeated, not looking at him. "It's your choice." Then he finished shoveling the last few bites of waffle into his mouth and hastily cleared his plate. He grabbed the lunch Stiles had made for him from the fridge before leaving, so Stiles didn't have any reason to chase after him. Stiles was too mystified by their conversation to ask him anything else anyway.  

 

* * *

 

It became a thing, Derek talking to him. It was only for maybe fifteen minutes in the morning and like ten minutes at night, but Stiles enjoyed that he didn't have to force conversation on him anymore. Plus, it meant he glared at him less, which was good for Stiles's self-esteem, frankly. It was nice to have confirmation that his boss and housemate didn't hate him. 

Derek wasn't great at remembering his lunch, though, which is why Stiles ended up busing from his class to the Hale office on Wednesday with Derek's lunch in his bag. He had also made himself a lunchbox, and he estimated just enough time before his next class to sit down and eat with him. He got the sense that Derek didn't talk much to people outside of his family. Stiles figured that maybe, after getting over the initial frustration with Stiles being forcibly inserted into his life, Derek he might actually like having someone else to eat with.  

This time, Stiles skipped the first front desk in the lobby and went straight to the sixth floor, heading for Derek and Laura's office. At the second front desk he strained his memory for the name of the assistant. 

The guy greeted him but Stiles only stared at him in return, deep in thought. 

"Isaac!" Stiles finally came up with, pointing at him in triumph. Isaac jumped a little in his seat, eyes fixed on Stiles's finger. "Derek yells at you, right? Laura told me." 

"Yes." Isaac visibly slumped. "Yes, he does. And you're Stiles? You've been by here before." 

"Yeah. Nice to meet you, man. I feel like we're in kind of a brotherhood now, what with the same cranky boss." 

Isaac glanced around before beckoning Stiles closer like he was telling him a secret. 

"He complimented me today." 

"No shit?" Stiles grinned at him. 

"First time." Isaac nodded proudly. "Told me I wrote neatly on this sticky note." Isaac picked up a sticky note and showed it to him. Stiles noted that it was placed proudly on his computer screen.

"High compliment." Stiles's mouth quirked into a smile before he schooled it into something more serious. 

"I'll take what I can get." Isaac shrugged. 

"I feel that. I really do." Stiles laughed. "I brought him some food so hopefully he'll be in a good mood for the rest of the day. Is he in there with anyone?" 

"Just Laura. They're working on expense reports. Enter at your own risk."

"I've survived his glares on multiple occasions." Stiles slid past him and knocked on the door. A moment later Derek opened it, looking put-off and moody. His expression softened somewhat when his eyes landed on Stiles. 

"Yo, bossman." Stiles drew both lunch boxes from his backpack. "I brought you sustenance so don't try to stare me to death, alright?" 

Derek stepped aside and beckoned him into the office without comment.

"Hey Stiles." Laura glanced up from writing something at her desk to smile briefly in his direction. 

"Hey, bosswoman." 

Stiles had forgotten how nice their office was -- the expensive bookcases, the ridiculously lush drapes over the huge window, the actual paintings on the wall. Derek's desk was behind Laura's, in the corner shadowed by the drapes, so Stiles had totally missed it the first time he was in this office. Stiles took a few seconds to look around the room before Derek cleared his throat, looking hangry. Stiles handed over the lunchbox without further ado. 

"I was looking for new recipes last night and I discovered Pinterest," Stiles explained as Derek opened his lunchbox at his desk and stared at the contents. Stiles took the seat on the other side of the desk and opened his own lunchbox. 

"What the hell is this? Is it... is it shaped like a bunny?"

"It's a rice ball. And, yes, it is shaped like a bunny. You're welcome. That took me thirty minutes and two youtube videos to do."

Next to them Laura snickered. When they turned their heads she quickly schooled her face into something serious and continued studiously writing whatever she was writing. 

" _This_ took you thirty minutes?" Derek turned back to Stiles and held up the ball of rice. 

"Shut up and eat it. It's delicious. You'll see. It has tuna and pickles inside."

"Tuna and pickles." Derek lifted both eyebrows.

"Eat. No more talking." Stiles waved at him, refusing to feel shame for his cooking fun.

As usual, Derek didn't complain when he actually started eating. After all that fuss, though, Stiles had to prod him a little bit. 

"It's good, right?" 

"It's fine." 

"Oh, fuck yes." Stiles grinned at him. Derek avoided his eyes. Off to the side, Laura snickered at them again. "I made myself one too. Look, it's a panda!" 

Derek looked, his expression somewhere between exasperation and amusement. 

"So what the heck is an expense report, anyway? Isaac said you guys were working on them." 

"You'd find it boring." 

"Still. You know, I don't even really understand what you guys do. Hey! Eat your carrots. They're good for night blindness or something and you drive home after dark most nights." 

Derek made a face so Stiles narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms at him. They stared at each other for several seconds before Derek reluctantly crunched into a carrot. 

Stiles felt eyes on him and found Laura staring openly at them, her jaw hanging. Stiles winked at her and refocused on Derek. Derek was oblivious to his sister's staring, too focused on eating. 

"I was thinking about burritos tomorrow. Are you more or less of a spice person?" 

"What do you like?" Derek asked cautiously, eyeing the rice ball he was halfway through. It was slowly crumbling in his fingers, little bits of rice falling off here and there. The seaweed bunny tail Stiles had made fell off with a clump of rice.  

"I'm kind of in the middle." 

"The middle is fine." Derek decisively shoved the rest of the rice ball in his mouth before it could completely fall apart. Stiles stifled a laugh at the mess he had made and leaned forward to brush some rice crumbs from the edges of his mouth.

"Oh my god," Laura breathed. She'd given up all pretense of not watching them, turning her chair toward them and ignoring her work entirely. "You --"

"Laura," Derek growled in warning.

"Oh, we're having a conversation. A long one." Laura's eyebrows went up in a very Derek-like, serious way. Derek seemed to stiffen at the words.

"With me?" Stiles clarified, looking between them. "Or Derek?"

"Me." Derek sighed through his nose. "It's fine, Stiles. Laura's poking her nose where it doesn't belong. Just ignore her."

"Oh, yeah. Laura, I forgot to mention -- we're on speaking terms now. New development."

"I see that." Laura bit down eagerly on the end of her fancy pen, a mischievous smile curling her lips as she did. Derek glared at her. "Peter will be so pleased." 

"Did he make a bet that Derek would kick me out in the first week?" Stiles asked wryly, fully expecting it to be true. That dick. 

"Quite the opposite, actually." Laura's eyes sparkled, her smile growing. Derek looked away from her pointedly, busying himself with fishing around in his lunchbox. He came back up with a bag of cucumber slices.  

"What's the opposite of kicking me out?" Stiles wondered. 

"Stiles." Derek held up a cucumber slice with a smiley face carefully cut out of the middle, looking completely exasperated. "Really?" 

"I know, I know. It's really awesome and you don't know how to react." 

"You're just doing this to amuse yourself," Derek grumbled. 

"Well, duh. Also, Pinterest is truly a dangerous place, bossman." Stiles grinned at him, biting into his own (not smiley faced) cucumber slices. "But don't get too used to it. I don't always have oodles of time to make your food super cute. You'll be getting regular-shaped food more often not. I know that's tough to hear, but life is hard, man."

"Ugh. Stop talking," Derek said softly and without heat. Stiles glanced at Laura, who was still openly watching them. He felt like they were under a spotlight. He wondered if he and Derek getting along was really worth this kind of attention. 

"So Laura, what does this company do, anyway?" Stiles roped her into the conversation so he would feel less like an animal at the zoo. 

"Well, I'm a lawyer. Derek's an actuary usually, though currently he's acting as both CFO and co-CEO. Both of us have two roles right now, which is why we're putting in so many hours. As for the company as a whole, though, we manage risk. It would take a while to fully explain what that entails, but it's similar to insurance." 

"Insurance, huh?" Stiles contemplated that. "Ok, please don't explain it to me. I might fall asleep." 

Laura laughed. 

"I take it you're not interested in a position here after you graduate?" 

"My degree's in criminology so I doubt you'd have something for me. I'm headed for the force when I'm done. I'm going to be a detective."

"Back in Beacon Hills?" Laura asked. She leaned with interest, her expression losing its playfulness. Derek also seemed to zero in on him, his eyes more intense than usual. Stiles looked between them, caught off guard.

"Not... necessarily?" Stiles shrugged. "If I can get a job here, I'll stay. Scott's planning on staying, I think, since his girlfriend is from here. I could always move back in with him." 

"And what about you, Stiles? Do you have a girlfriend?" Laura asked, her eyes darting to Derek and back. Derek looked stiff again. 

"Nope." Stiles cocked his head, wondering if she could even ask him that as his employer. He didn't remember anything in their contract, but weren't there statewide rules about that or something? 

"Boyfriend?" Laura's lips quirked into a smile. Stiles froze. How had she divined that about him? But then again, they were in Berkeley, which was right next to the gayest city in America. In his experience, people here were less likely to assume straightness than the people in Beacon Hills, so maybe it wasn't anything specific about him that triggered that question.

Derek radiated tension next to him, and Stiles suddenly worried that he could be uncomfortable rooming with someone who wasn't straight. He probably should have thought to ask about that before he signed the contract.  

"Would that be a problem?" Stiles asked cooly, directing the words to Laura but watching Derek out of the edge of his eyes.

"Opposite of a problem," Laura repeated her earlier confusing words and leaned back comfortably in her chair. She looked relaxed. "Derek?"

"No." Derek shook his head, eyes on his food. "Not a problem at all."

"O...kay." Stiles worried about the weird feeling in the room. Derek was still tense, and Laura seemed like she was gloating about something. "You guys sure? Because it seems like a problem." 

"Derek's bi," Laura said simply. 

Stiles looked between them, caught off guard again. He'd never stopped to think about Derek's sexuality, probably because he was technically his boss and he didn't let himself think about it.

Derek didn't look upset by the outing -- Stiles's immediate concern -- but he also didn't look comfortable with the conversation. He didn't meet Stiles's eyes. 

"Is that ok with _you_?" Laura threw his question back at him as a challenge. 

"Please." Stiles laughed, a little breathless with nerves. "That's a relief! Hey, rainbow brothers, bossman!" Stiles thumbs-up'd Derek, mostly in the hope that it would make the guy roll his eyes or scoff at his childish terminology. He needed him to do anything other than sitting slightly too straight in his chair, not looking at them. 

Derek actually smiled in response, his teeth showing and everything. It was gone in half a second, but Stiles had seen it, and it was pretty breathtaking. All the tension went out of the room with it. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How do you even spell "unfuckupable"???? IDK.

Thanks to Laura, Stiles couldn't _unlearn_  that Derek was not straight. Every morning Derek would wake up in his boxers and too-tight tank top, and sometimes not even that, and slowly ascend the stairs, seemingly just to torture Stiles. Stiles had already memorized the way his back muscles flexed on every step (Ok, Derek was gorgeous and he wasn't blind, even if Derek was his boss), but now those stupid back muscles almost seemed to taunt him. Derek wasn't some untouchable straight guy -- just idle fodder for Stiles's imagination -- but an actual possibility. Well, for some other guy, not for Stiles. 

Luckily, Stiles barely saw Derek during the week, and on Saturday he made lunch and dinner in advance and went with his friends out to San Francisco to walk Pier 39. It was sunny outside for once, the fog clearing for the beautiful ocean and the barking sea lions. Stiles blamed the amazing weather for how their friend trip seemed to morph into a double date with two third wheels -- him and Lydia. Lydia was still in her boycotting-boyfriends-but-sex-buddies-are-ok stage, so Stiles had someone normal to sit with while Allison and Scott busied themselves with their fiftieth grotesquely adorable selfie and Danny and Ethan were buying ice cream so they could no doubt lick it off each other's noses and nuzzle. Stiles and Lydia waited on a bench together, Lydia playing candy crush while Stiles reread texts from Derek. 

"Why are you smiling?" Lydia asked, not looking up from her phone.

"I keep waiting for my boss to act like the giant asshole Laura and Peter warned me about, but he's a total pushover. He's weirdly polite, in this really grumpy and combative way. And look at this frowny face he sent me! How adorable is that?"

Lydia glanced up from her phone as Stiles held his phone out for her to look. She raised one perfectly manicured eyebrow, unimpressed as usual, and went back to her own phone.

"Normally, when people say someone's an asshole, they're an asshole. Like, 99% of the time in my experience, especially if it comes from their family. But Derek's just... quiet, and I'm starting to suspect kind of lonely. He texted me to see if I'm staying home tomorrow. He would never _ask_ me to stay home, but he seems overly concerned with whether I will or not." 

"Really." Lydia leaned back on the bench and adjusted her sunglasses, pocketing her phone. Her strawberry blond hair sparkled in the sunlight. 

"I'm going to do it. He says he reads historical fiction for fun in his, like, three hours of spare time per week. I have to fact check that nonsense. Gotta be a lie." 

"Sure." Lydia smiled at him, her sunglasses obscuring her eyes and making the expression completely inscrutable. "Fact check." 

"Lydia's off her phone -- is something important happening?" Allison and Scott had apparently finally perfected their selfie by the water and returned to the bench base. Ethan and Danny were still off buying ice cream somewhere. 

"Stiles has a crush on his boss," Lydia reported out of nowhere. Stiles reeled. 

"I do fucking _not_!" Stiles scoffed, looking between Allison and Scott's disbelieving expressions. Good, they seemed just as surprised as Stiles felt. 

"He would have told me if he did," Scott dismissed her. 

"He was just rereading texts from Derek," Lydia argued blandly. 

"Ooh." Allison winced. "That's incriminating." 

"Well, who even uses this frowny face in facebook chat? It's so cute!" Stiles defended himself, shoving the phone at Scott and Allison so they, too, could judge the emoticon. Scott looked even more bewildered. 

"You have a crush on your boss and you _didn't tell me_?" Scott sounded scandalized. "I knew this would happen when you moved out! We're growing apart."

"I don't have a crush!" Stiles insisted, exasperated. "I'm basically his maid. It would be way too weird." 

"Sweety, I'm the queen of impersonal, and even I know that logic has nothing to do with crushes," Lydia pointed out. "I've hooked up with bosses, teachers, players on opposing lacrosse teams, my parent's lawyer at one point. It doesn't matter." She waved her hand casually as Allison's eyes boggled. 

"Teachers?" Allison whispered, looking as horrified as her boyfriend. Stiles was also trying hard not to imagine any of their high school teachers. "Which teachers?"

"College teachers," Lydia clarified after an awkward moment.

"Still." Allison wrinkled her nose, looking troubled. 

"It _matters_. He, and his family by the way, are paying my tuition to live with him. No more loans." Stiles frowned, his stomach uneasy as he realized just how real that was. His "Derek is off limits" feeling had been more abstract until he reasoned it out loud. "I can't fuck this up. It's such a great deal." 

"Stiles is right." Scott seemed to get over his feeling of betrayal. "It's not worth it." 

" _And_ I don't have a crush on him," Stiles reaffirmed. 

Scott stayed silent, eyeing him. Allison stifled a chuckle. 

"I hope for your sake that he is an asshole so you can get over this." Lydia sighed. "He better insult Marvel soon. I don't want to see you going down the deep end again like you did with me." 

"He has Captain America salt shakers." Stiles frowned. 

"Which ones?" Scott asked with interest.

"Pepper is Bucky and salt is Cap." 

"You're so fucked." Lydia pulled her phone back out. 

 

* * *

 

Stiles got home at about seven to find Derek passed out on the couch in soft-looking sweatpants, curled around what Stiles confirmed after a Google search was indeed World War II historical fiction. He'd felt uneasy all day as his friends teased him about his "crush", with varying levels of actual concern for the situation, but seeing Derek on the couch with his hair all rumpled and his face open and vulnerable he felt more certain that his feelings were purely physical. Even if he were to... theoretically... develop an actual crush on Derek, nothing could come from it. He wanted this job more than he wanted a boyfriend. He did. Yes, he did. Danny and Ethan could nuzzle all day and it wouldn't change his mind. 

Nope.

On the other hand, he graduated in five months. 

Stiles couldn't bring himself to wake Derek up, but he also didn't want to go back to his room to sit by himself with his confusing thoughts. In a total serial killer move, he sat down on the couch and watched Derek sleep peacefully for a few minutes. Unfortunately for his internal argument with himself, Derek was even more beautiful when he wasn't glaring. 

Soon Stiles's stomach started to complain. He went to sit up, but he jostled the couch just enough to wake Derek. Derek blinked awake while Stiles hurried to straighten and pretend like he hadn't just been creeping on him. 

"You really do read historical fiction about the most depressing era of all time." Stiles clicked his tongue, nerves taking his voice higher than normal. "Weirdo."

Derek blinked at him, confused, before his eyes cleared and he glanced down at the book still gripped loosely in his hands. 

"Oh," was all he said. 

"Did you eat my portion too?" Stiles whined when he opened the fridge to find it filled with ingredients and no meals. "That was... so much food. Dick." 

"Laura came over. She wanted to try your cooking and got carried away," Derek explained, wandering into the kitchen and leaning back against the counter. He yawned. Stiles tried not to stare. "We could order something, or... or we could eat out."

"Eat out?" Stiles blinked at him.

"You cook too much." Derek avoided his eyes, looking at the floor instead. "And you look tired today." 

"As in... together?" 

Derek still wouldn't look at him, but he shrugged.

Stiles slowly closed the fridge door, unsure what to make of the offer. 

"I mean, yeah. Cool. Either is fine. Cooking's kind of my job now, but if you want to give me a break I'm all for it, dude. So, by 'out' you mean outside of the house? Like, go somewhere?" 

"Where do you want to go?" Derek asked, apparently forgetting about the "in" option.

"Uh." Stiles's eating out experiences were pretty much relegated to the cheapest restaurants, preferably those with all-you-can-eat buffets, perfect for his light wallet and huge stomach. He didn't think Derek ate at places like that all that often. "Pretty much all food near the University is good with me. The cheaper the better is my motto." 

Derek made a face, confirming Stiles's suspicions that he was a restaurant snob. Ugh, rich people. At least he ate Stiles's cooking. 

"That's far. And noisy. Let's go somewhere closer." 

Stiles stared at him, drawing a blank. 

"Do I look like someone with background knowledge of the Berkley Hills?"

"You pick the kind of food, and I'll pick the restaurant?" Derek offered. 

"Ok..." Stiles suddenly didn't know what do with his hands. What did normal people do with their hands? How were they supposed to just... rest at his side? Did his fingers usually curl up all weird like that? "Pizza." Rich people couldn't fuck up pizza, right? Pizza was forever the poor man's unfuckupable food -- bread and cheese with sauce. Simple, delicious.

Derek nodded, his eyes far away. 

"Ok, I know somewhere nearby," Derek said suddenly as he pushed off the counter, looking ready to go. "I'll treat." 

"Technically, every time I spend money it's your treat," Stiles pointed out. His stomach was joining his hands in the abnormal feelings territory. "But if you don't take it out of my stipend, I guess it's an... extra treat." 

"Stiles, do you want to argue semantics or eat?" Derek sighed. 

"You first, bossman." 

Boss. Derek was his boss. He was just eating dinner with his boss. 

His _boss._

 

* * *

 

Much to Stiles's horror, rich people had indeed tried to fuck with pizza. Derek took him to a "wood-fired" pizza spot. They made their own tomato sauce and used four different kinds of cheese. Stiles hated that he loved it. 

Stiles ordered a lot of wine because he was feeling vindictive that Derek had managed to make pizza fancy. Derek ordered wine too, so even though they walked there together they Uber'd back home since walking became a little difficult by the end of the meal. They stumbled through the door, arguing over Stiles's insistence that they fill the kitchen with more sci-fi themed appliances. 

Stiles felt weirdly nervous as they stood in their respective bedroom doors, looking down the hall at each other, still bickering. 

"If I wake up to an Amazon purchase on my account, Stiles, I swear to god..." Derek threatened him, looking anything but threatening with pink-flushed cheeks and a reluctant smile on his annoyingly handsome face. 

" _Death star_ oven timer, Derek. I cannot believe you're arguing with me right now. This will improve your life massively. Just, try to go back in time to when you bought the salt shakers and remember how good that felt." 

Derek's reluctant smile grew. He looked... really happy, and Stiles liked it.  

"No Amazon. Not when you're drunk." 

"Fine." 

A silence settled between them. Stiles didn't want to go into his room, especially when Derek was talking and laughing and loose enough to actually tell him his unfiltered opinions on things ( _49ers? Pick a real team, Stiles_ ). He was worried he'd wake up in the morning and Derek would be back to stressing and glaring and tense, moody silences that Stiles had to fill with meaningless chatter. 

"Are you going to brush your teeth?" Stiles asked suddenly, realizing neither of them seemed to be heading for the bathroom. 

"No," Derek said, looking defeatedly at the stairs. 

"Yeah, me neither." 

"Don't tell Laura?" Derek joked. It was unexpectedly hilarious to both of them and they dissolved into laughter. 

"I won't rat you out," Stiles promised, wiping at his eyes. 

Derek smiled before he slipped inside his bedroom and left Stiles standing, somewhat forlornly, in the hallway staring at his door. 

 


	6. Chapter 6

Waking up the next morning was surreal. Stiles didn't set an alarm, so Derek was the one who knocked on his door. Their roles reversed, Stiles answered the door blearily. Derek looked too squinty, so Stiles asked, "Your head too?" 

"I swear, I didn't drink that much.” Derek sighed, leaning against the doorway. As Stiles was leaning against the same doorway but from the other side, it brought them much closer. Stiles stepped back when he realized their faces were only about a foot apart. Derek rubbed at his face and didn't seem to notice. "How many glasses of wine did we have?" 

"Um, I had four... you had three." 

"Three?" Derek glared at him like that was somehow his fault. It took Stiles a moment to realize that Derek's pissed-off face and his disbelieving face were roughly the same thing. 

"Yeah, dude." 

"You know I get alerts on my phone when you order things from Amazon," Derek said abruptly, his eyes brightening with something similar to amusement but a little sharper. 

"You are now the proud owner of not only a death star oven timer, but a Darth Vader cake pan. You're--" 

"--Stiles, I--" 

"--WELCOME," Stiles finished loudly. Derek stared at him for a minute longer, looking a little strange, like he couldn't decide whether to reprimand him or laugh. Stiles processed that neither of them were wearing pants. 

"You're making me a Darth Vader cake?" Derek asked finally, voice flat.

"You're going to love it," Stiles promised with sincerity.

Derek hovered there for a few more moments, swaying a little closer to Stiles before turning suddenly and leaving Stiles in his bedroom door. 

"You will!" Stiles yelled at his retreating back. 

Stiles withdrew into his room and collapsed on his bed. He peeked at his phone and discovered it was seven in the morning, which to Derek must feel like what normal people would consider sleeping in. Stiles was determined to go back to bed until at least ten. 

He'd just closed his eyes when he felt a weight sink onto his bed. He twisted in surprise to find Derek sitting next to him, holding out a glass of water. 

"For your head." Derek also offered him an Advil. Stiles had faced worse hangovers before, but he took both. 

"Thanks." Stiles smiled, trying to relax back into his bed. That was pretty much impossible now that Derek was sitting so close Stiles could feel the warmth of his thigh where it grazed his hip. "I'm supposed to be doing this for you, though, not the other way around." 

Derek shrugged. 

"You take care of me all the time. Consider today your day off." 

It was a simple gesture, but it completely shut the door on the suit-wearing-evil-bastard stereotype Stiles was still clinging to somewhere in the back of his mind. Derek Hale was officially a marshmallow -- case closed.

Stiles was too stunned to say anything, so he drank more water instead. It definitely helped. Derek stole the glass from him when he was done and swallowed the rest.

"What are you up to?" Derek asked, apparently comfortable enough to draw his legs up onto Stiles's bed and loop his arms around his knees like he would be there for a while.

"I have this World War II historical novel I picked up..." Stiles started. Derek swatted at his knee through the blanket. It tingled.

"Are you going back to bed?"

"Bingo." Stiles hugged his pillow to his cheek, feeling vulnerable under Derek's gaze.

"I usually work out in the living room and listen to documentaries, so I'll wait until you're up to do that."

"Oh, I'm good missing the documentary. What is it about, the Holocaust? The Rwandan genocide?"  

"Automobile manufacturing." Derek's lips twitched.

"Fuck, Derek." Stiles rubbed at his face in exasperation that he felt down to his toes. "You know we have movies about aliens from outer space? Tons of them. There's explosions and CGI so real you forget it's fake. I'll show you sometime. It'll blow your mind, I'm telling you." 

"It's loud." Derek flattened his mouth into a thin line. "I don't want to wake you up if you're sleeping." 

"Oh... well, then, you should wait," Stiles conceded. 

Derek nodded and got up. He closed the door behind him as he left. It was much easier to relax with Derek gone. Soon the Advil kicked in to dull his headache and he slipped into unconsciousness.

He didn't wake up until nearly eleven. Derek had made breakfast: eggs with chopped up ham, mushrooms, and cheese. It was good, which surprised Stiles somewhat because he'd come to think of Derek as someone who was unable to cook rather than someone whose job rendered them without the energy to cook. It was a good reminder that Derek was actually a functioning adult, not the man-child Stiles had expected when he moved in. 

They sat on the couch after breakfast and managed to argue over documentaries for a while until Derek forced him to watch the first few minutes of the automobile manufacturing documentary, which Stiles then had to reluctantly admit was fascinating. Who fucking knew. (Derek knew).

Just as Stiles really started to get into it, Derek stripped off his shirt and began doing push-ups on the roll-out yoga mat in the space between the couch and the TV. It was so abrupt that Stiles felt frozen in place for a while, mesmerized by the pull and clench of Derek's muscles in his upper body as he completed one set of pushups and moved seamlessly into a set of lunges. The transition was automatic enough that Stiles realized this was part of a long standing routine. Luckily, Derek didn't seem to catch him staring, too focused on his workout to notice. 

Stiles pulled the couch blanket tighter around himself to cover his very inconvenient erection. The documentary playing on the TV in front of them was just a convenient excuse to look in Derek's direction for the entirety of his workout. Stiles didn't learn shit about automobile manufacturing.

When Derek finished a truly impressive iron man routine, he grabbed a towel from the bathroom and wiped the sheen of sweat from his shoulders and neck. Then he collapsed onto the couch next to Stiles to watch the rest of the documentary in silence. 

Stiles ended up playing on his phone while the credits rolled. Derek looked like he was nodding off. Stiles noted that Derek seemed to love napping on the couch.

"How can you..." Stiles started, his mouth going before his brain could check himself. Derek sleepily lifted his head from his arm.  

"Hm?" 

Well, he was awake now. Stiles figured he might as well plow forward.

"I know it's a family business," Stiles said hesitantly, "but seriously, dude, there's got to be a way for you to step back. You hate it."

Derek blinked at him and rearranged a couch cushion until it was under his head. Their feet brushed under the too-big shared blanket. Stiles didn't move away, though he probably should have. 

"My grandfather started this business with my mom and uncle Peter. It's important that it stay in the hands of family." 

"Why?" Stiles found himself asking. 

Derek shrugged. 

"Just is." 

"That's some hardcore nepotism. And a lot of pressure on you guys." 

Derek smiled ruefully. 

"Yeah, I guess so. My mom has certain values and principles she wants the company to be conducted under, and she trusts Laura and I the most to do that. Consulting firms like ours rely almost entirely on reputation; if we don't have that, we'll go under. Our family is a big part of the company's reputation." 

"But still... you hate it," Stiles pointed out again because Derek didn't seem to address that crucial aspect. 

"My family works there. I don't hate it. But I do hate being in this position," Derek admitted reluctantly. "I'll be relieved when my mother comes back. I want to be home by five on weeknights, or sooner. And have weekends to myself and..."

"Your boring books?" Stiles finished for him with a smirk. Derek nodded slowly. "So you're not a voluntary workaholic?" Stiles parsed out. He had suspected as much, but he needed confirmation. 

"Why do you think I became an actuary? Laura and mom can do this kind of schedule, but not me. They're both overly zealous lawyers." Derek sighed, deflating against the couch as his face crumpled in open misery. 

"Hey, at least you can admit that now," Stiles said as gently as he could. He considered it significant personal growth that Derek was no longer growling at everyone and insisting that he was fine.

"This is better," Derek agreed, not looking at him. "Laura and Peter made the right call."

Stiles prodded him with a toe, touched by the admission. He chose to take that as a personal compliment. Derek looked back at him from his sprawling, lazy position. 

"Oh my god." Stiles gaped at him. "I just realized what you are." 

"What?" Derek seemed to stiffen, his eyes shifting from relaxed to wary.

"This whole time I thought you were a Slytherin -- which is cool with me, by the way, Lydia's a Slytherin too -- but you're actually a Hufflepuff. I totally mis-sorted you." 

"Harry Potter." Derek closed his eyes and fluffed the couch pillow until it was comfortable. "Really, Stiles?" 

"I'm right, though." 

Derek smiled, eyes closed and head resting on the couch pillow. His foot was still pressed up against Stiles's. "You're a Ravenclaw." 

"I knew you liked Harry Potter!" Stiles exclaimed triumphantly. 

"I was young once, too." Derek yawned. "I don't just read 'boring' books." 

"Called it. Totally called it. Hey, you know what I saw on Amazon the other day--" 

"No." 

 

* * *

 

Stiles somehow got in the habit of staying home on Sundays. Sometimes Saturdays. It wasn't a big deal. 

Inviting Isaac over for their first Saturday game night was a big deal, though. In Stiles's defense, he warned Derek long in advance that game night was coming, that they were hosting it, and that there would be multiple young adults in his living room drinking and being loud. He _may_ have forgotten to mention that he invited Isaac. 

Stiles brought Derek lunch and called his office often enough that he and Isaac had started a strange sort of friendship centered around gossiping about their bosses and repinning each other's recipes on Pinterest. So he didn't even think about inviting Isaac over when he started planning their game night. Isaac seemed really jazzed by the idea of meeting other people his age outside of the office. 

But when Stiles let Isaac in the house, Derek froze while in the middle of arranging a bowl of chips on the table. Suddenly it felt like a grizzly bear and a deer facing off in their living room. The two eyed each other, Isaac looking nervous, Derek inscrutable. Stiles realized he'd never actually seen them interact before. Was this what every day at Derek's office was like? 

"Oh, have you two not met?" Stiles looked between them sarcastically. Derek finally moved -- if only to roll his eyes -- and refocused on what he was doing with the chips. Isaac seemed to uproot from the floor once Derek's eyes were off him. 

"This is... nice," Isaac commented, handing Stiles a pile of homemade muffins. Isaac and Stiles liked to compare cooking notes, and Isaac recently promised to show him his mad skills with pumpkin, chocolate, and cream cheese. 

"Sweet! Hey Derek, you want to try a muffin?" 

"No," Derek said moodily before disappearing into the kitchen. 

"Shit." Stiles looked at Isaac in apology. "Go ahead and make yourself comfortable. Scott and Allison should be here any second to save you from us." 

Stiles followed Derek into the kitchen and jabbed him sharply in the side. Derek snarled at him, but Stiles held his ground. 

"What are you doing?" Stiles whispered, hopefully low enough that Isaac wouldn't overhear.

"Why did you invite him?" Derek hissed.

"I didn't know you had a blacklist!"  

Derek grumbled something incomprehensible and aggressively stirred the dip for the chips. 

"He's your guest tonight, not your assistant. Got it?" 

Derek glared at him. Stiles knew he wasn't going to get anything better so he rejoined Isaac in the living room.

"You ok?" Stiles wondered. Isaac looked kind of pale.   

"It's a little like seeing a lion everyday at the zoo and then just randomly deciding to walk into his enclosure." 

"At least you brought muffins." 

Lydia, Allison, Scott, Danny, and Ethan arrived soon enough and started a rowdy game of cards in the living room. Derek sat farthest away from Isaac and the two didn't speak, but they also didn't fight which Stiles took as a win. Derek was quiet all through introductions, but he smiled enough when jokes were made that Stiles didn't worry too much about how he would fit in with his friends. Isaac also loosened up considerably, especially after winning several rounds of threes. 

When the card game devolved into a wrestling match between Lydia and Allison, they put away the cards for everyone's safety. Stiles made a huge pot of pasta and they all ate dinner together, which somehow also managed to devolve into a wrestling match between Lydia and Allison, who were apparently not over the card game. Derek and Scott talked heatedly about cars for what seemed like forever. Once again Danny and Ethan pulled Stiles into a conversation about Stiles's love life.

Stiles felt a lot hotter and stickier this time when they brought it up. Derek was _right_ there. Sure, he was off limits, but that didn't make Stiles any more comfortable having this conversation in front of him. 

"What do you say, Stiles? We're going this weekend with some friends. You should come, maybe you'll meet someone." 

"I don't know." Stiles pulled at his collar, feeling even sweatier. "The 'stud bar'? I may not live up to such high expectations." 

"It's just a name." Ethan snorted. "Believe me, there's nothing to be intimidated about. Totally normal dudes go there."

"I think I'm." Stiles cleared his throat, something huge and invisible stuck in it. "Uh, I'm good. I'm happy with how things are right now." 

"Really?" Ethan looked disappointed. "Stiles, it's not a big deal. We'll be there. It's a great place to meet guys, which I know you want to do." 

"If he doesn't want to go, it's ok," Danny interjected suddenly, his expression rapidly cooling. He reached under the table and tugged on Stiles's hand, then jerked his head toward the hallway. "Hey dude, before I forget I should fix that bug on your computer. It's in your room, yeah?" 

Stiles didn't have a bug on his computer (that he knew about), but Danny's looked serious, and whatever he wanted was a welcome distraction from the previous topic of conversation. Stiles led him into his room and Danny closed the door quietly behind him. 

"Stiles, I'm sorry -- Ethan didn't realize you were dating your boss." 

Stiles blinked at him. 

"...What now?" 

"Derek looked upset," Danny said, looking guilty. "Sorry if we fucked anything up by suggesting you're... looking to hook up with someone else. Ethan doesn't always catch these things, but I'll talk to him." 

"What?" Stiles repeated. He couldn't even comprehend what Danny was saying. "We're not... no. It must have been something else, something Scott said. We're definitely not dating." 

"You fed him a muffin earlier," Danny pointed out doubtfully. 

"He wouldn't eat it, and he was hurting Isaac's feelings!" Stiles exclaimed. Danny put his hands up in surrender. 

"Ok. I mean..." Danny squinted at him. "Are you sure? It really seems like you are..." 

"We just live together," Stiles squeaked. "It's... no. Nope. Definitely not. You can't accidentally date someone, Danny. Shame on you." 

"If anyone could do it, Stiles, it would be you," Danny laughed. Stiles didn't find it funny. 

"It's just... it's a little weird to talk about my love life in front of my boss, so..." Stiles trailed off, scratching the back of his head. 

"Got it." Danny looked smug. "We'll shut up. Promise." 

"Oh my god. Start now." Stiles rolled his eyes and shoved Danny out of his room. 

Stiles checked and Derek definitely didn't seem upset when they got back out to the living room -- he was still deeply absorbed in a discussion with Scott about cars. Stiles decided Danny was hallucinating things, or that he had just misinterpreted one of Derek's many upset faces. That was probably it -- it had taken Stiles a while to figure out the different shades of Derek's glare, too. This one probably had to do with Scott criticizing Derek's ridiculous Camaro. 

Lydia left for a booty call (hers, not theirs, she was quick to point out), Allison and Scott went to a late movie, and Ethan and Danny disappeared with a transparent excuse (Danny fucking winked at Stiles so Stiles knew it was garbage), and then it was just Stiles, Isaac, and Derek left in the living room. 

"Thanks for inviting me, Stiles. I had fun," Isaac said as soon as the door closed on Danny and Ethan, his eyes darting warily to Derek. He started to stand from the couch. 

"Thanks for coming," a gruff voice said from next to Stiles. Stiles had to check to make sure it really was Derek standing next to him. Isaac looked equally shocked. 

"Oh. I. Yes. Thanks for having me, uh, Derek." 

"Your muffins were... fine." 

"Oh." Isaac's face twitched from terrified to timidly happy and then back to terrified. He scurried out of the door and then turned to wave at them before breaking into a run for his car.

"What have you done to him?" Stiles asked Derek sourly. "Poor guy."

"Nothing!" Derek scowled. "He always thinks I'm yelling at him, but I'm just talking."

And _that_ put Stiles off more than anything else. It was the closest he'd seen Derek get to actual -- not just rumored -- asshole status. 

"Jackson used to say shit like that." Stiles glared at Derek. Derek's defensive expression melted into confusion. Stiles scoffed and started picking up the living room, stacking the cards neatly and cleaning crumbled chips off the table. 

"I'll... I'll try to sound nicer," Derek conceded softly from behind him. "I can't promise it will work." 

Stiles glanced at him, taking in the morose set of his shoulders, his face ducked away.

"Good. You really don't want to be a Jackson, Derek."  

"No," Derek agreed, shaking his head. "I don't." 

 

* * *

 

Stiles was minding his own business and trying to take notes in his criminal law class when he got the strangest text, possibly of his existence. 

 **Bosswoman:** _If you don't talk to your boyfriend about this, I will._

Stiles stared at the text, his mind racing through all the possibilities of both what "this" and "boyfriend" could mean. The lecture completely faded out as panic thudded through his chest. Laura thought he had a boyfriend? And Laura was threatening to tell him something? Laura had always been either business-like or flippant with him, never serious like this. 

Hands shaking, he texted back,  _I don't have a boyfriend_

 **Bosswoman:** _You know who I'm talking about._

Stiles stared at the text for another full minute before finally responding. 

_I really don't have a boyfriend, Laura. And what the hell would you need to tell him? Did I do something?_

Suddenly the phone started ringing. Stiles jumped, as did the classmates sitting closest to him. His professor frowned at him in displeasure. 

"Sorry. I think it's... an emergency." 

Stiles answered the phone just outside the classroom, his hands fumbling over the screen. 

"Laura?"  

"Oh shit, it really is you, Stiles. I'm sorry -- those texts weren't meant for you. So sorry if I confused you." 

"Oh." Relief washed through him, followed by frustration. Laura knew he had class right now and she still called him. "Fuck. Who were you trying to text?" Stiles asked. He was owed an explanation after that serious adrenaline rush. 

"I changed your name in my phone and it confused me," Laura politician-answered him. 

"What did you change it to?" 

"So sorry again, Stiles." 

"Laura. Don't you dare hang up. What did you change it to?"

"I'm changing it back right now," Laura sounded guilty. "It's just a little joke."

"Joke? Laura, what the fuck," Stiles asked, his panic morphing into anger. "Why won't you tell me?" 

Laura was silent on the other end of the phone for too long. 

"Laura!"

"Ok. I'll tell you. But it's a long story. I'll come by the house this afternoon. I think I can clear my schedule..." 

"... Fine," Stiles growled.

"In the meantime, try not to hate me, ok?" She hung up without waiting for a response.

Stiles stared at his phone, confusion and anger swirling inside him from that alarming conversation. He ducked back into class, but he couldn't focus on a thing the teacher said for the rest of the period.  

 

* * *

 

When Stiles finally got home he had a few theories about Laura's mysterious texting, since it was all he thought about for most of the day. His best possible option was that she was trying to text Peter or a friend of hers that Stiles didn't know. The worst possible option was... Derek. 

He nervously cleaned the house and cooked dinner ahead of time, setting it aside in the fridge. Derek wasn't supposed to be home until after nine tonight, but Stiles didn't know how long Laura's story actually would be. 

When she showed up on the front steps around four, he figured he may have overreacted. She smiled at him briefly but he didn't return it. She sighed and seated herself on the couch. 

"Sit." She nodded at him. Stiles crossed his arms and sat down at the table, snubbing the seat next to her. She sighed again. 

"Alright, I fucked up." She raised both her hands. "Big time. But before we talk about that, I need to talk to you about something else." 

"What?" Stiles wondered, even more confused. "I have no idea what's going on here." 

"I've never seen my brother like this before. He's really happy. Still exhausted all the time, but genuinely happy. He and Isaac _had_ _lunch_ together today. Do you know what that means to me?" Laura leaned forward, her eyes intense. Stiles leaned away from the intensity, unsure how to respond. 

"You've far exceeded my expectations. I'm giving you an early pay raise. You can think of it as a bonus." She extended her hand, a check in it. Stiles looked at it, unsure, before curiosity got the better of him. The amount on the check boggled his mind.

"This is... exactly my tuition for next semester." 

"Well earned." Laura nodded. "That's for the work you've already done, not an advanced payment for next semester, to be clear. So you're financially free to make any future decisions." 

"Is this some kind of bribe?" Stiles stood up, enraged by the implications of the check. Laura smoothed her hands down her skirt, unruffled by his anger. 

"Not at all. I mean it when I say that's for the work you've already done with my brother." 

"I don't think I can accept this." Stiles crossed his arms again. 

"Look, I shouldn't be doing this, but I am." Laura looked at the ceiling, steeling herself. "I changed your name in my phone to 'Derek's boyfriend'. I know that's inappropriate, given our relationship, but what's done is done now. So I was trying to text Derek when I accidentally texted you."

Somehow the only thing Stiles seemed to be able to focus on as those pieces clicked together was, "You were trying to text Derek? So does that mean Derek has a _boyfriend_?"

Laura looked at the ground this time, her expression tight, before looking back at him. 

"Yeah. _You,_  dummy."  

"We're _not dating_ , Laura!" Stiles practically shouted. "I'm doing my job! Why does no one understand that?" 

"You're doing it... exceedingly well," Laura said carefully, still unruffled by his anger. This woman was made of steel, clearly. "And I know you're... not dating," she said it distastefully, "but I'm Derek's sister and it's my job to tease him about the people he likes." 

Stiles stared at her. Laura waited a few seconds before erupting on him. 

"Yes, oh my god, yes, he _likes_ you Stiles. In fact, my brother is so head-over-heels _in love with you_ it's exasperating for me to watch! Do you think anyone on the face of the planet, myself included, can get my brother to do the things you can? I both admire and hate you a little bit for your awesome power. I've been harping on him to go to the doctor for a checkup for three years, and then you suggest it once and he puts it on his calendar. The nerve!" 

Stiles was speechless, but that didn't seem to bother Laura. She plowed on. Maybe this speech had been building for a while. 

"The ridiculous lunch boxes! You know what I'm talking about -- when you put those glitter messages on the top lid? I know you're totally just fucking with him, and normally Derek would be irritated by that, but he's not mad. Do you know what he does? He takes it out and looks at it randomly in the middle of the day. Just sits there and _stares_ at it. Ok? Thinking about you." Laura paused for dramatic effect. She cocked an eyebrow and continued, her voice lower, "And do you know he actually leaves the office early just so he can get home and eat a longer dinner with you? He never left early, even when he was fucking exhausted, because he doesn't prioritize himself, never has. He prioritizes you, though."

"Laura, stop. You're right," Stiles swallowed hard, "you shouldn't be doing this."

Laura seemed to take a moment to cool off, adjusting her jacket and tucking her hair behind her ear. When she spoke again, her voice was level, her gaze unwavering. 

"I told him that he needs to tell you how he feels. He won't do it while you're working for us, and he won't ask you to choose between him and this job. In part because he doesn't think you would ever pick him, but also because he doesn't want to put you in a situation where you feel like you need to quit. I'd finally convinced him to talk to you about his feelings after you graduated because then you wouldn't need money for school and you would be moving on to a job with your degree. But something happened the other night when your friends were over, and now he's saying he won't do it. That's what that text was about: Derek doesn't think you'll stay with him when you don't have a financial reason. He thinks he's the only one with feelings." Laura took a deep breath, her mouth twitching into a confident smile. "I'm willing to gamble on that."

Stiles sat down. He had to -- it was too much information to receive at once, and he hadn't prepared himself for it at all. 

"The thing is, Stiles, if you really _don't_ have feelings for him, he's not going to bother you as long as you live here. You can forget I talked to you about this and pretend you don't know. I'll even stop pestering Derek to talk to you after you leave. You can live here just as you have until the end of the school year when you graduate, without anything changing."

"Ok." Stiles sighed. "Alright. I understand."

"The ball is in your court." Laura shrugged. "Derek's not going to put you in a bad position, of that I'm sure."  


	7. Chapter 7

Stiles attempted to focus on his homework until Derek came home, but he gave up quickly. He ended up hanging upside down from the couch, trying to get the blood to drain into his brain so he could figure out what to do with this situation. He fingered the check Laura had given him for a long time until Derek came in and surprised him into falling into a lump on the ground.

"Stiles!" Derek sounded alarmed. Stiles clutched at his head and twisted until his ass was on the floor rather than in the air.

"It's ok. I only fell like three inches." Stiles winced and leaned against the couch. Derek knelt next to him. Stiles noted that his eyes were a pretty shade of green. 

"What were you doing?" Derek's eyebrows inched up in concern. "Do you need an icepack?" 

"You're not supposed to be home for another hour." 

"Laura kicked me out early." Derek shrugged. 

Stiles groaned. 

"Are you ok?" Derek inched closer, his hand resting gently on Stiles's head like he was feeling for a bump. Stiles jumped at the contact. 

"I'm good!" he squeaked. "No, it's just. Yeah. Of course she did." 

"What?" Derek squinted at him in confusion.

"Dinner." Stiles looked at the kitchen so he wouldn't have to look at Derek. Derek was very nice to look at, but looking at Derek started all these complicated, twisting feelings in his gut. "Let's, uh, eat. Maybe you can get an extra hour of sleep tonight." 

"That would be nice. Are you sure you're ok?" 

"I'll live."

Stiles stood and busied himself with heating up their food. Derek got him an icepack and insisted he sit down, taking over. Stiles felt bad watching Derek because he looked like he usually did on a Tuesday night -- ready to fall into his bed and pass out

Stiles did his best to act normal during dinner. He tucked the check away in his pant pocket, but he thought about it the whole time. Laura's words were also rolling around his head on repeat, making it basically impossible to focus on what Derek was saying. By the end of the meal, Derek was ready to take him to the hospital to check him for a concussion, but Stiles talked him out of it by explaining that he had a lot on his mind.

Laura was a close enough second to Derek that Stiles didn't have a strong reason to doubt what she told him. That scared the hell out of him. 

After dinner, Derek drifted off to his room, still looking out of it. Stiles washed the dishes, his head buzzing with too many thoughts in the silence. Abruptly he came to a dizzying decision. Before he could lose his resolve, he set the rest of the dishes to soak, quickly changed into his pjs, and brushed his teeth. He took the check out from his jean pocket and put it on his bedside table.

Then he knocked on Derek's door. When he got a "yes", he peaked his head in to find Derek in bed with a book.

"Hey." Stiles cleared his throat, wondering if there was a better way to do this. Probably, but whatever. 

"What's up?" Derek closed his book, sliding a bookmark in to keep his place. 

Stiles nervously fingered the waistband of his boxer briefs.

"Uh, can I... sleep here tonight?"

Derek's face went blank. Still, the response was immediate. 

"Yes." 

"Cool." Stiles couldn't help smiling at how easily Derek agreed. He gestured at Derek to scoot over. Derek complied, watching with interest as Stiles settled under the covers next to him. Derek's covers were fluffy, heavy, and warm. Stiles heartily approved.

"Are you having... nightmares?" Derek asked slowly. 

"Oh." Stiles laughed. "No." He rolled onto his side and watched Derek grow more confused by his presence. Stiles decided he liked the shape of Derek's stubble and the slightly wide set of his eyes.

"Ok," Derek said, even slower. "What..." 

"Laura came by to see me today," Stiles explained, his voice quieter than intended. It felt like something that should be said quietly. Derek went stiff next to him. "She gave me a big bonus check for, uh, doing a good job, I guess. It's enough for tuition for next quarter, so I don't really have to work for you anymore." 

Derek's eyes were bright, but he stayed silent, watching Stiles's face carefully. 

"Still, I think I'll stick around." Stiles swallowed. "I've kind of... gotten used to you. And cooking is pretty fun, though it would be nice if someday you had time to do it too."

Derek's mouth twitched and his eyes softened. Stiles waited for a while, his heart thumping loudly in his ears. Derek was just looking at him, sort of fond and concerned, and Stiles wasn't sure what to make of that. 

"Uh, assuming you want to keep me around...? If you don't, you can totally kick me out of your bed right now," Stiles prodded him, some doubt edging in. He only had Laura's word to go off of at this point, after all. Maybe he was completely overstepping. He cleared his throat nervously. "I don't know if you're aware of this, but, in the Stilinksi family tradition, teasing of this level is pretty much a confession, dude." 

Derek moved a little closer, his hand coming up to touch the side of Stiles's head like he was feeling for a bump again. 

"Are you sure we don't need to take you to the hospital?" he asked softly. 

Stiles laughed at the unexpected response. Derek didn't move his hand, but he seemed hesitant, almost disbelieving. If Derek was leaving room for second thoughts, Stiles didn't have them. When Stiles didn't move away, or whatever Derek was waiting for, his thumb started to stroke over Stiles's hair. Stiles hadn't been touched like that in... he couldn't even remember. Maybe even since high school. It was tingly, sending little shocks of electricity through his spine. 

Derek smiled at him before shyly looking down between them, his hand trailing along Stiles's cheekbone and resting lightly on the side of his neck. 

"I was right." 

"What?" Derek asked, his voice soft and unmistakably fond now. 

"About what it means when you say something is 'fine'." 

Derek's genuine smile was interrupted by a yawn. He struggled to suppress it. 

"You're exhausted," Stiles pointed out. 

"Yes," Derek admitted, his eyes still bright. Stiles moved closer, adjusting Derek's arm until he could press against his side, his cheek resting on Derek's chest. The sound of Derek's speeding heart under his ear matched his own, but it was unmistakably comfortable. It felt both strange and right. Derek's hand came to rest on his shoulder before he fell asleep.

 

* * *

 

Stiles usually detested waking up at five thirty in the morning. Today Derek woke him up at five, but Stiles definitely didn't mind. 

Derek started by just pressing against Stiles's backside, molding their bodies so there was no unnecessary space. They stayed like that for a while, Derek's hands waking him up with slow movements -- feeling along his chest, rubbing languidly down his stomach, learning the shape of his hipbones. Stiles was content to just lie there and let it happen, grunting every so often when Derek would hesitate -- to push under his shirt, to edge along the waistband of his pants, to perk his nipple -- and let him know he was fully on board with this plan. Gradually Derek moved to kiss his hairline, trailing his mouth down to nip at the shell of his ear. Stiles shuddered at his warm breath against that hypersensitive part of his body, his cock leaking from Derek's affections.

Stiles decided to actively participate by pushing his boxers down to mid-thigh and rolling completely over onto his stomach. It was a pretty bold assumption, but it seemed to work well. He heard Derek's breath catch next to him. He was slow to respond, so Stiles tugged on Derek's very toned arms until he rolled over and nestled between Stiles's legs. Stiles pushed back against Derek's erection, taking his cues from Derek's irregular breathing. He rubbed him between his cheeks, slow but insistent, in an obvious invitation. With Derek fully clothed, it felt unexpectedly dirty to rub against him like that. 

The whole experience was almost lazy, so hazy and warm and sleepy. Derek finally found something Stiles hoped was lube from his bedside table and reached between them to loosen Stiles up. Stiles sighed against the pillow, doing his best to hold onto that feeling of relaxation as Derek penetrated him. Sometimes he fingered himself while he was jerking off, but honestly someone else's hand down there was new. Derek rested his cheek against Stiles's shoulder, no sense of urgency to the way he pressed into Stiles and massaged his rim. Stiles didn't know what time it was, but he thought maybe Derek was being too generous with him; Derek opened him so carefully that he would have described it as comfortable if it weren't for the heat of anxiety and excitement in the pit of his stomach. 

"Shit." Stiles muttered into the pillow. Derek immediately stopped. 

"What?" 

"You've been single for like ten years, yeah?" 

"...Yes..." Derek sounded wounded, so Stiles quickly continued. 

"No! You're doing... I don't even have words, ok? It's just... I don't have any condoms, and I'm guessing you don't either. I was kind of up for condom-using activities."

Derek laughed against the bare skin just above his collar. It tickled. Then he showed Stiles the still-wrapped condom in the hand that wasn't preoccupied fingering him.

"Laura," was all the explanation Derek gave.

"Ah." Stiles buried his face back in the pillow, both weirded out and grateful for Derek's sister. Derek settled back against him, the fingers inside Stiles -- two or three? He'd lost count -- moving once more. Stiles tried to squeeze his own hand between his body and the bed to jerk himself off, but gave up when he realized that Derek's additional weight on him made it too difficult. He ended up squirming against the bed, searching for any kind of friction, as Derek set off waves of pleasure and sparks of electricity while he fingered him. 

At some point Derek pressed himself inside Stiles. By then, Stiles was so well stretched that it felt almost entirely pleasurable, if new and exciting and strange. Then both of Derek's hands were free to ruck Stiles's shirt up to his neck, wrap around Stiles's chest. Derek grasped lightly at Stiles's throat, tilting his face up and to the side so he could taste his mouth. The slide of their tongues against each other as Derek slowly thrust into him seemed to set all of Stiles's nerves on fire, leaving him panting and groaning against the sheets. Derek didn't seem to fare much better, reacting to Stiles's sounds by gasping brokenly against Stiles's skin and clutching at him like he was afraid Stiles would move away. Stiles wished he could move even closer.

Stiles needed to touch himself -- he was burning up with it -- so he moved them both onto their sides. Derek's hand beat him to it, though, sliding over his stomach and then stroking over him with perfect pressure. Stiles went limp, leaning back just enough to mouth messily at Derek's ear.

Feeling like a complete virgin, Stiles yelped in surprise as his orgasm shuddered through him. Derek slowed, his hand milking Stiles expertly until he was spent. He peered over Stiles's shoulder to watch him come against his hand and stomach. A few thrusts later, Derek shook against him, his thighs tightening.

Stiles was too relaxed to move, so it was up to Derek to pull the covers back up around them. He made no other move to disentangle from Stiles or clean them up, although they were both almost certainly late at this point. Stiles sighed at the comfortable scent of Derek's bedsheets, the perfect warmth of Derek's naked body against him. Yup, he definitely made the right decision. 

"You have to go to work," Stiles pointed out on a yawn. Derek moved closer, his cold nose pressing against Stiles's cheek. 

"No." 

"Yes." 

"...ngh." 

Stiles laughed, his chest light with happiness. Derek struggled to tie the condom and seemed reluctant to get out of bed, hesitating on the edge and looking back at Stiles with regret. 

"You can't just quit. You're the boss," Stiles reminded him. 

Derek breathed out like he was anticipating doing something difficult before he stood up. He moved slowly at first, but he transitioned into a more normal pace as he put on more clothes. Stiles watched him get ready, appreciating his excellent view of naked Derek, though he'd seen him scantily clad in the morning often enough that it wasn't a completely new experience for him. Once Derek was fully clothed and Stiles lost his incentive to laze around the bed naked, Stiles finally roused himself enough to make a very fast toast and eggs for Derek to take with him to work as he was, surprise surprise, almost a half an hour late. 

Derek kissed him quickly at the door, and then one more time, before he hurried out to his car. Stiles found himself standing at the doorframe grinning long after Derek's car rounded the corner and drove out of sight. 

It was mostly a good day after that. Stiles only had classes in the afternoon, so he spent the morning working on homework. For lunch, he showed up at Derek's office with some relatively un-fucked-with sandwiches, though he did write  _Studmuffin_ on the top of the to-go container in blue glitter glue. Derek swore when he saw it and tried to hide the message from Laura, who was watching them so closely it was unsettling. Stiles threaded his feet with Derek's under the desk and out of range of Laura's hyper-attentive gaze. 

"Derek, you were late this morning." Laura turned completely toward them in her swivel chair, giving up any pretense of doing the work on her desk. 

"Yes." Derek's eyes darted swiftly to Stiles and then down to the contents of his lunch box. Stiles, too, focused intently on his food. 

"It's just strange, is all," Laura pointed this out like she was talking to a three year old. 

"I guess." 

"You're not usually late," Laura continued. It was excruciatingly obvious what she was asking. Derek refused to take the hint.  

"That's true." Derek took another bite of his sandwich, his foot rubbing against Stiles's ankle. The guy could handle a poker face, Stiles had to give him that.

Stiles, on the other hand, cracked under the pressure a few seconds later when he broke into a guilty smile. Laura stood up so quickly her chair bumped back a few inches. 

"I knew it. I _knew_ it. Oh, Peter owes me big!" 

"Shit," Stiles cursed. Derek rubbed both hands over his face, clearly mortified.

"I got you a present," Laura announced gleefully, pulling something from her desk drawer. She dropped a literal wrapped present with a giant red bow on Derek's desk, kissed the side of Derek's head, ruffled Stiles's hair, and then flounced back to her desk.

"Open it!" she prompted them, her knees bouncing in a giddy way that didn't seem to match her professional clothes. Stiles and Derek stared at the present like it might explode.

"Don't," Derek warned, but Stiles drew on his courage and reached for the box. He unwrapped, to Derek's mortification, a variety pack of 100 condoms.

"Glow-in-the-dark and flavored included," Laura said, somehow with a straight face. Stiles couldn't help laughing. Derek looked like he was ready to crawl under his desk in shame. 

Peter came in a few minutes later after Laura apparently gloated over text. He spent most of his time haggling over betting money with Laura and then, at the very end, congratulated them somewhat begrudgingly. Apparently, Peter thought it would take them until at least next month to get together. Stiles didn't reveal Laura's meddling (which was now clearly cheating by the terms of their wager) because he liked watching Peter lose so much money. 

After lunch, Derek walked with him down to the lobby of the building where he stood awkwardly without saying goodbye. Stiles waited. 

"So," Derek's eyes focused on the ground and he tucked his hands shyly in his pockets, "we didn't really talk about... " Derek trailed off, but Stiles could guess what he was getting at from the anxiety in his tone.

"Dude, we live together." Stiles patted Derek's chest with one hand. It was very firm. Stiles tried not to think too hard (or too dirty) about that. "I'm not going anywhere." 

"You could be with someone your own age," Derek pointed out softly, his voice trembling a little. "Someone who actually has time to spend with you." 

"Clearly, you make time when you can," Stiles wiggled his eyebrows, referencing their extremely early morning. Derek's cheeks pinked slightly. "And this isn't forever. I know that. Though, I would appreciate a larger Amazon allowance in the future if you're serious about keeping me on as your personal chef." 

Derek's smile was forced and quick to disappear.

"But I don't have an end date for you." Derek shifted, serious again. "You're really willing to be with me when my life is a mess?" 

"You Hales seem to continually underestimate my awesome powers." Stiles shook his head in mock disappointment. Derek hummed, his smile lasting longer this time. "I know what I'm getting into, Derek. Yeah, this sucks right now, but we'll get through it. It's not forever."

Some of the worry slipped away from Derek's expression, but not all. 

"So you're... not going to that bar with Ethan this weekend? The stud whatever?" Derek asked, a frown creasing his forehead at the name.  

"Thought I'd stay in," Stiles answered, trying to sound nonchalant. "I've already got a pretty hot studmuffin. You can check your lunch box if you forgot." 

Derek groaned and turned his back on him immediately, retreating all the way to the elevator before he turned and somewhat reluctantly waved at Stiles. Stiles waved back, grinning to himself, and left for school.  


End file.
